Vanguardian is a historical speculative romance that explores race, power, and identity through the lives of three main characters in an empire threatened by war. Available online and at bookstores.
I’m excited to share an exclusive excerpt from my novel Vanguardian. This scene introduces you to two main characters of the story, Fabien and Lucian. I purposely selected an excerpt from the middle of the novel, since many people open to a random page in the middle of a book to before deciding if they want to continue reading. Enjoy this free excerpt and please leave your feedback.
Stay tuned for updates on the official release date!
The Stone Shed – Monde’s Royal Military Academy
Lucian was nervous when he first set foot within the castle grounds earlier that morning, but now, as he looked at the swelling crowd around him, his nerves heightened. Anticipation and pressure mounted. He would tear the stone shed down to rubble just to shake off the feeling. Fabien turned his face to him.
“The king and all his men are here to see you. Your name will carry well beyond this day,” he said encouragingly, as they trailed not far behind King Verlaine’s servant.
“Yeah . . .” Was all Lucian could get out as his anxiety continued to build and, bit by bit, became frustration, even a tinge of anger. He didn’t ask for this.
Richard, the man Lucian met earlier that day in the washroom, was among the crowd with a handful of his friends. Everyone was in for a show on Lucian’s frustrated behalf. The procession of men moved slowly due to the king’s languid cadence, enabling Lucian to hear every whisper and rumble from the veterans and young trainees around him: questions of who he was, why he was being treated specially by the king, and how foreign he appeared—the word “dark” emphasized derisively.
When they all reached the stone shed, the servant carrying the king’s chair set it down a safe distance away from the edifice. Verlaine stood before his chair and motioned for Fabien and Lucian to come forward.
Richard grumbled seeing the new cadet take a spot beside the king.
His Majesty gripped Lucian’s shoulder and proceeded with a brief speech. “Here before you all is Lucian de Vistré, the stepson of the Duke of Salvage. He is said to have the strength to tear down a stone building by brute physical force. Well, I said I would have to see that for myself—and here I stand among you, Monde’s finest men. We all will witness if such a claim is true,” he said, smiling humbly as he scanned the crowd.
Expressions of disbelief spread over the pack of men, along with jeers uttering skepticism. The king’s smile lingered. He loved good, spirited bickering. In the face of the criticism, Lucian raised his chin, but not so high as to appear overconfident.
“Ah, that building has been crumbling for years. Rain has seeped through the mortar and has weakened the structure.” A man shouted. Others agreed, jeering. When the crowd erupted into a clamor on that sound assertion, Verlaine raised his hands to settle them. With the men quieted, Fabien spoke in Lucian’s defense.
“Come up, you skeptics. Test the strength of this building yourselves.”
The crowd gladly broke up. Some men pushed on the building’s walls. Several gave it their all, grunting as they pushed. Others only inspected the integrity of the structure with their eyes, giving it a brief look over. This went on for several minutes. The building was old, but still too sturdy for a man—much less a fifteen-year-old boy—to tear down without tools.
“Okay, for those of you testing the sturdiness of the building, return to where you were standing,” Verlaine ordered.
The men returned to their spots behind the king’s chair. The king turned to Lucian.
“So, are you ready, young man?” he asked, with his hand still planted on Lucian’s shoulder. The gesture made Lucian feel more worthy of the task. His frustration began to temper. He’d enjoy the prestige that could come with such recognition from the king.
“Yes, my lord. Please let me show the doubters what I can do,” he said artfully.
Verlaine liked that reply; Fabien too. The boy was surprisingly smooth for having never been taught how to address a crowd or manage himself in such a situation. Verlaine moved out of Lucian’s way; Fabien followed. Once Verlaine was seated, Lucian gave a short bow to him and the crowd before turning to face the stone building.
The roof was already missing, having caved in a year before, and rubble littered the interior of the building. The upper left corner of the structure had crumbled to the ground as well. Most of the pieces had been salvaged for other uses.
It was late morning now, and bright, hot sunlight beat down on the crowd of men causing them to sweat, especially those who had their go at the building. But Lucian was energized by the light and heat. He put his hands against the outside wall of the building and gave it a push to test its sturdiness. It didn’t budge. He gave it another push, then another . . . and another. The wall absorbed his efforts.
Men behind him snickered.
Lucian tried again. Then again. Moments passed.
The king shifted impatiently in his chair, his earlier smile now absent.
Grumbling jeers from the crowd reemerged, bold and loud.
Lucian focused on the feeling of the wall against his palms and continued to push. Then, putting his ear to the wall, he reared his arms back—palms facing forward—and flexed his back to build up force. With a violent thrust, he crashed his palms against the wall.
A singular crack sounded, breaking through his doubt and embarrassment. He again released his palms from the wall and thrust them forward. The structure shifted. A second later, a cornerstone fell from the end of the building that had already semi-collapsed.
An encouraging roar came from the men behind him.
Lucian backed away from the building and with a kick, delivered a heftier blow to the wall. His foot broke through to the other side. As the stones began to topple down, he moved out of the way.
The king clapped and chuckled rapturously.
Lucian kept going, moving on to the side of the building. He pushed the area level with his chest to get the wall loosened, then kicked it repetitively, breaking it apart as with the first wall. His raven-black hair got in the way of his eyes, but the rest of him was intact, showing no evidence of strain. He moved with ease as the stones continued to crash down.
“What a monster,” Richard commented, loud and crude.
Lucian was on to the third wall, and the fourth wall began to sway.
“Must be that Moor blood in him . . . they’re animals,” Richard taunted, in reference to Lucian’s mother.
I hope you’ve enjoyed this excerpt. To continue reading, please purchase your copy. Available online and at bookstores.
The Clerk 
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